


Bonanza

by Patchworkearth



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 4.1 Spoilers, Gen, Gender-Nonspecific WoL, If Raids Had Sidequests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12340449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchworkearth/pseuds/Patchworkearth
Summary: "Return to Ivalice" - When Ramza bas Lexentale challenges the Warrior of Light to refute his cynicism, the answer lies in the tale of a Miqo'te thief's lost treasure. Some relationships are written in the stars; some are coincidence.





	Bonanza

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after Patch 4.1 and "The Royal City of Rabanastre" and may become invalidated by later parts of the raid.

The Warrior of Light was hardly cowed by the creatures that they’d battled upon arriving at the ruins of the dead city, Rabanastre; not after having been carried bloodily from the scales of the dragon god Shinryu spare weeks before. No, but they _were_ unsettled by these things, voidsent-but-not, possessing some tainted aether at once foreign and familiar.

They recalled the pale, uneven stone in Alma’s palm, and thought back to what Unukalhai had said of a world consumed with a lust for the auracite, fallen into, nay, creating the Void itself. They thought of battling the beast Cúchulainn aboard a derelict ship at the side of a cadre of sky pirates, its squamous tendrils groaning against the walls of its captivity.

They thought of Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn, dissolving into starlight.

They thought of all these things, standing watch over the fissure in the ground near what once was the Muthru Bazaar as the hired adventures lowered themselves one by one and two by two, down into the Garamsythe Waterway. Many were edging their way slowly down the rock via a length of cable fetched from the _Prima Vista_ , but one hearty Roegadyn simply scooped up their Lalafell partner under one arm and jumped, hooting and hollering the whole way down. The stench from below was black and foul, but many looked relieved just to escape the oppressive heat of the Dalmascan sands, which felt like a weight around the shoulders. Hard to believe how close the Steppe was, in raw malms.

On the hole’s other side, Ramza bas Lexentale wiped the blade of his flimsy saber clean, with what looked like but surely wasn’t a silk handkerchief.

For such a posturing lad, he’d acquitted himself well enough in the battles thus far. In fact, with the retinue occupied managing a stampede of black chocobos, it had been he who’d landed the killing blow upon that strange, mutant red; his sword driven to the hilt in the poor wildling’s neck. It put one to mind that he’d ordered his sister stay aboard the massive theatre ship not for her safety, but to spare her the sight of his violence.

But it was clear that he’d a better gift for leadership – while he’d wisely left the Warrior of Light to their own devices, when it came to his hired band he had a surprising aptitude for tactics. Against these ‘others’ he’d kept a cool head and directed the group in thirds, positioning them wheresoever would be safest and offer the prime opportunity to hit a weakness.

They had seen others with this gift, certainly—even at the boy’s age, the Leveilleurs could outfox him—but this was not a disciple of war, but instead a dandy in a puffy shirt. An enigma, this Ramza, and a curious one.

The boy turned, tilted his head, then snorted. “You’ve acquitted yourself well enough. I suppose Master Garlond’s estimation of you was not entirely off-base.” Not exactly Ser Aymeric, this one. He tugged at one loose sleeve. “I daresay I’ve soiled my cuffs.” He twitched. “You have an unearthly stare about you, have you been told that?”

The Warrior of Light only shrugged.

“Yes, well... you seem surprised I yet stand.” He sheathed his blade. “Or is it that I can herd this rabble? I am my father’s son—direction and choreography comes quite naturally.”

They frowned.

“Hmp.” Ramza looked them over. “You say a lot with a little. You think me callow, that I’ve little patience for you and yours, or your lands. Fair enough, then. My father has danced along the knife’s edge all his life in service of his cause, and it’s only rewarded him with risk, and left fear in my sister’s heart.” Before they could draw the comparison to Alisae, however, he continued. “When have any of you proven _worth_ it? When your primitives call upon eikons? If taking Ala Mhigo was our sin, what say you to their own Kingsguard, who all but offered the lands to us on a platter?”

He grabbed the cable and wrapped it around his hand and elbow. “Ask Master Garlond about the Bonanza, before you’re quick to judge.” And he rappelled down.

***

And eventually, they _did_ ask; though the answer was surprising.

“It was a long time ago—leave that one to lie,” Cid said with his back turned away.

They’d all returned from the Omega staging area to resupply, and to check on the status of the recuperating Biggs and Wedge. Alpha was happily chasing and pecking at a lizard that had darted across the sands, and Jessie was shoving a stack of invoices into Cid’s chest as though she believed he’d actually look at them.

There was a sharp laugh to one side, and Nero Tol Scaeva approached—bearing in hand what appeared to be a tea kettle with a monitor attached, so that feud was still ongoing—with his trademark delighted sneer. “Ah, he won’t tell you old stories from out of school? How unusual. And here I thought our ‘boss’ loved nothing more than to pontificate at length on the tragedies of ‘immoral’ science."

They crossed their arms. What did Nero know of the Lexentale family?

“Ahh, Cid’s classmate Jenomis!” He clapped his hands together. “I’ll admit, I always had a distaste for that man. To deceive the uneducated is not subtlety; and I’ve simply no respect for faerie tales.”

This was clearly a lie, as Nero had shown quite the opposite when it came to the foes they’d battled in the Deltascape—and it was this that prompted Cid to turn and jab with his finger.

“You always had a distaste for anyone who favored me with friendship.”

“Tut tut.” Nero replaced his sunglasses. “You said you’d no interest in participating in this history lesson.” He tucked the kettlestrosity beneath one arm. “As one might suspect, despite Jenomis being a disciple of more liberal arts than we, he at times visited our dear friend here on more than one occasion, at times with his little boy in tow. And contrary to popular belief, not all of our days were spent exploding things, and so the boy was wont to bore and wander the halls.”

“I still don’t know how he got into that laboratory.” Cid spat angrily.

“I suspect that our old friend Aulus Mal Asina merely... left the door open.” Nero sniffed. “Always was a fool, that one.”

The Warrior of Light could not help but tense at the name. They’d only just recently slain the rogue scientist Aulus Mal Asina, who had tortured poor Krile Baldesion with his Echo extraction procedure—a procedure he’d weaponized, a procedure with which he’d nearly flayed their very soul from their body.

A procedure not entirely off from the properties of auracite.

“Mm, this is before he’d been full-on laughed out of the facility, of course, and into Zenos’s loving arms. No, Gaius had not started to lose his standing yet, and he was still tolerating of... unusual hypotheses.”

At the mention of van Baelsar’s name, Cid shook his head and walked back towards Jessie, looking pained.

“Anyroad...” Nero was having just a _splendid_ time with this story, if only for how it hurt Cid. “I take it you’re long past familiar with the enforced conscription that is the Empire’s means of subjugation. So very easily successful, it is. This was only a few years after Ala Mhigo was taken, and though Gaius offered citizenry to those who turned and proved trustworthy, many others were taken via the usual means.” He rubbed his chin in a false show of sympathy. “One such was a Sun Miqo’te whose name eludes me. He’d been given a task he shouldn’t have been able to perform, repairs on a Magitek Avenger I believe, and instead of failing and having his head cleaved in with a rifle butt... he had the damned thing running better than before. Turned out he had quite the aptitude for engineering, given the lack of education. No real inventive mind, but a suitable assistant, at the least. He was brought back to the capital, and to ensure his performance, his son was brought along as collateral.”

The Warrior of Light dipped their head.

“Yes, yes, it’s terrible. Hm? No, I don’t know the details of his parentage. Perhaps he was a Nunh, but I’ve not the slightest, these feline harems all come across as rutting to me.” He shrugged. “Well, apparently our mutual friend Aulus had been experimenting on the boy in secret. Very naughty, but when nobody takes you seriously, it’s quite hard to acquire suitable test samples. It can be difficult, the scientist’s life.” He laughed, until the expression on their face stopped him. “Well, it was years ago. So, little Ramza enters this laboratory where he’s not supposed to be, and he finds this Miqo’te boy, a teenager really, looking rather worse for wear. ‘Please let me out,’ he says. ‘No, I’ll get in trouble,’ says the boy. The Miqo’te says, ‘my name is... is...” He frowned. “M-something. Last name was Tia, which was of course the name of Ramza’s dear mother. Of course, even a Garlean such as myself knows they’re _all_ named Tia.”

How did Nero know this story? What possible reason?

“Ah ah ah! Don’t skip ahead now! We’re getting to the good bit, here.” Nero leans in. “The Miqo’te, he begs little Ramza, says my father’s leg has been shattered by his cruel keepers, I must save him. And Ramza loves his father more than anything, and so he finally relents and disables the releases so that this kitty can go free.” He paused, ever-so-slightly shaking his head as if to dislodge something inside, and then snapped his fingers.

“M’Staado. M’Staado Tia. That’s the name.”

The sun was beginning to set on Rhalgr’s Reach, and there was a chill sweeping through the halls.

“Do you know what happened after little Ramza let that boy loose?” Nero laughed. “He did not go back for his father at all—he robbed Aulus and fled! I daresay the news must have broken poor Ramza’s heart!”

The Bonanza...

“Yes!” Nero nodded. “As you’ve gathered, Zenos yae Galvus considered Aulus quite useful. He’d been directing funds towards the man’s work for some time, and his family was of adequate standing, so he was sitting upon a fair cache before the little Miqo’te struck. Followed him home in the shadows, assaulted him and ran off with the wealth, or so they say. And so they put out a bounty, had soldiers and conscripts turning over villages searching for him. The irony was, it was no Garlean who eventually found him, but instead a trading company in Gridania. Your own people boxed him up and shipped him back to Ala Mhigo for a sizable reward—one I’ve little doubt appears on no ledger.”

Some time back, a year or more, the Warrior of Light had been helping deliver a letters for a Postmoogle acquaintance to a group of minstrels known as the Homunculi (hadn’t Lina mentioned them just recently?), and in the series of convoluted events that followed, came into conflict with the likely culprit: the Baert Trading Company were in fact little more than slavers, and would no doubt be all too happy to line their pockets with Garlean coin.

“As you might expect, the boy died during interrogation. Tragic.” Nero didn’t seem bothered. “But he never revealed where the stolen lucre had been hidden. And the ones who found him hadn’t taken it, either.” The Warrior of Light themselves could attest to that much. They were thugs with no riches of the level Nero suggested. “And so it is believed that hidden somewhere in all of Eorzea lies the gil, untouched, a Bonanza hidden and forever unspent by a coward who’d desert his own father.”

There was a scuffle behind them, and they both turned to see Cid shoving a set of papers back at Jessie, yelling. “Abandoning a father.” It was no wonder that Cid hated this story, and if anything, suggested things about Cid’s distaste for the financial aspect of the Ironworks that were better left unsaid.

***

The Warrior of Light was not one to complain about much, but if they were, the sheer amount of time spent in desert heat of late might be a contender.

They stood atop the Peering Stones, home of the M tribe, watching the young hunters limber up and train. Everyone had an energy and a lightness to them that they hadn’t before—for all the difficulties, for all the uncertain future, Ala Mhigo’s freedom was having a positive effect everywhere.

“The Liberator returns to us.” M'rahz Nunh approached with a soft smile. “What tidings bring you? How is M’Naago?”

They engaged in small talk a bit, related the newest from Lyse, and then the matter at hand finally surfaced.

“M’Staado. Yes, I remember.” Somber. “Why now? Do you seek his money? You’d not be the first adventurer to come searching for clues, but I expected better of you.”

No. No, they came to prove that M’Staado’s Bonanza was built upon lies. To prove to a young man who concerned themselves more with their own family’s honor than on the right thing, that they weren’t wrong to help someone different than themselves so long ago.

“Laudible.” M’rahz let his face soften. “But difficult. It’s said that like his sire, M’Staado had been enraptured by the Garlean technology. Had the mind for it, even so young. He was taken before he’d barely learned to hunt. Being a machinist was all the boy knew. The lure of coin... it’s not impossible to believe it really did sway him.”

The Warrior of Light had heard a hundred hundred stories like this, all over Eorzea. There was a piece of the puzzle missing. They’d find it.

“If anyone could, it’s you.” The elder nodded. “Very well, then. I only know a little that is of help. Our tribe has been to all the places here in Gyr Abania that M’Staado might have fled. Though we did not hunt the Bonanza, we were watchful. That the boy made it past Baelsar’s Wall suggests that he did not hide it here, if there was aught to hide.” He lowered his head, thinking. “Neither he nor his father had ever been to Gridania; I do not know where he intended to go, only that it must have been purposeful. If his goal was only to flee the Empire, attempting to cross the Wall would not be the way when the whole of the City-State knew his face. There were other ways out, dangerous though they may have been.”

A young hunter sprinted over. “Nunh! They have been sighted near Bittermill!”

The Nunh scowled. “Send a messenger to Rhalgr’s Reach, and to East End. We pursue them without engaging. They are well-armed, dangerous, and cannot be predicted.” The hunter bolted, and the Nunh turned to them. “You have comrades in Little Ala Mhigo... you’ve likely heard that many of the Corpse Brigade have fled back to what was once their homeland.”

They tensed.

“We have kept vigil along with the resistance, that they not be allowed to repatriate without answering for their crimes. As the former Kingsguard of Ala Mhigo, and a bloodthirsty traitorous lot, there are many here who blame them for the civil war which Gaius...”

Wait. They were sighted at Bittermill?

“Yes. Indeed, it wasn’t so long ago that you and I...”

They knew Bittermill’s secret. The prisoners housed there to use as test subjects. They were searching for the Black Rose, a chemical weapon of unparalleled danger.

The Nunh stepped back. “But the Adders disposed of the canisters. The Black Rose is no more.”

If the Corpse Brigade sought the Black Rose, it meant they intended to use it, or to sell it to someone who would. If they were delayed in their search because the canister could not be found, this was their chance to stop them immediately.

The Warrior of Light summoned a mount and took to the skies at once. After all, they also had a score to settle with the leader of the Corpse Brigade: Milleuda the Slitter.

***

Unfortunately, Milleuda was not in attendance at the party that evening. They had to make do with a dozen cutpurses and mercenaries in The Slitter’s employ, including an especially vile Hyur rogue by the name of Gustav, who was left doubled-over and sobbing in the grass, his face split open like an overripe grape.

By the time Lyse and the Adders had each sent their reinforcements, the men and women were tied together in a circle, and the Warrior of Light was inspecting their belongings for proof of Milleuda’s location.

“Well,” said one laughing Adder, “Guess we weren’t needed. The Warrior of Light _is_ the reinforcements.”

“Aye,” said one of the Ala Mhigans, “But now we’ve no way to trace them back to Milleuda.”

The Warrior of Light explained, in the most general of terms, the story of Bittermill and the Black Rose –that Milleuda the Slitter sought a chemical weapon.

The Twin Adders lieutenant on the scene frowned. “This is the foulest of coincidences. We’d just taken in a Baert Company caravan earlier in the week with prohibited alchemical materials. We’ve been in touch with the Flames, that they enlist the Alchemist’s Guild in determining what they were trying to make.”

More coincidences than the lieutenant knew. They explained about their search for clues as to the Bonanza.

“You think it wasn’t gil?” The lieutenant shrugged. “Nobody’s ever found the Bonanza. I’d thought it a myth.” The Warrior of Light pointedly did not point out that if Ivalice was real, then surely anything might be. Instead, they pointed out that M’Staado’s escape through the Wall was likely through the same route that the Corpse Brigade used; that, if the Alchemist’s Guild could prove that Baert’s materials could be used to synthesize the Black Rose, if only they had the compound to work with, it would prove they were in league.

“It will take a higher rank than mine to release the information on the Black Rose’s composition to the Flames, but I suspect they’ll agree to it.” The lieutenant nodded. “Even if we can’t get Milleuda, taking down Baert once and for all is a suitable consolation prize. I take it you want us to leverage them for information on where they captured M’staado?”

They nodded. Sometimes things had a way of working out.

***

M’Staado had been caught in the Silent Arbor; from where the Warrior of Light stood, you could see the walls of Quarrymill, where Ala Mhigan refugees had once washed up to be judged by the Elementals. Ilberd’s double had once been there, when the Warrior of Light was only just starting out. It was where they’d met Meffrid, who’d died just shy of seeing his homeland freed. M’Staado could have been there, too, if he’d not been grabbed by thugs with no one to come to his aid.

The sounds from Quarrymill now were different. Adventurers from the four corners of Eorzea milled about, laughing and sparring, each waiting for their turn to challenge the Gelmorran labyrinth found beneath their feet, searching for a Bonanza of their own.

The Warrior of Light walked amongst the trees silently, looking for the precise spot. At last, they found it—a clearing no bigger than two people with their arms outstretched, marked on the north side by a broken column that had been forced from the ground, perhaps even by the Calamity. It was like a tombstone, this fingertip of the Palace of the Dead that had breached the surface.

They knelt and sifted through the grass, lifted the small stones, and there—in a tiny crack in the stone, he found M’Staado’s Bonanza: a single Allagan Tomestone.

***

Cid held the tomestone up to the light, as though he’d be able to see through it to glimpse the information within. “I needn’t be Rowena to appraise this one. Its value is to be known only to the concerned parties.” He wrapped his heavy-gloved fingers around it. “All the details of Aulus Mal Asina’s research. He’d risked everything to get it out of Garlean territory, and he was stopped before it could get to the right hands.”

Alphinaud Leveilleur crossed his arms. “To think, if he’d been able to complete the journey, Krile would have had knowledge of the extraction procedure before being captured... we all would have known what Zenos was capable of, how he’d gotten so strong. How many lives he would have saved...” He shook his head. “But armed with it now, it may yet still do some good. Both in our knowledge of how the Echo works, and also in combating tactics like this in the future.”

“I’ve copied the data.” Cid handed them the tomestone. “Be careful whom you give this to... it’d be downright dangerous in the wrong hands.” This meeting was being explicitly held without Nero’s involvement.

M’Staado Tia had been running and running, with this small chip the equivalent of a pulsing auracite stone in his grasp, cursing himself every moment that he was betraying his father as he did, knowing still it was the right thing to do.

There was only one person they wanted to give this gift, and as they boarded the shuttle to the _Prima Vista_ , they thought of Ramza bas Lexentale—Ramza _Durai_ —and how he’d risked his own life for the sake of his father, for the truth of their family and their history. A family name meant only so much; we are the sum of our deeds and our higher callings. And as the Durai Papers would expose one truth, this little stone could do the same.

It was not yet known if M’Staado had saved the world; but he could yet save the boy he once met.


End file.
